


Demon

by red_handedjill



Series: Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Darling Pan - Freeform, F/M, Headcanon, Tumblr Prompt, complies with canon, expansion on Neverland, i guess dubious consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_handedjill/pseuds/red_handedjill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I do believe in fairies, I do, I do — until I don't. — darling pan</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He Let Me Go

Something wasn't right. He could feel it in his veins, the island was not as it should be—it was anticipating something, it was scared, nervous, but …  _Excited._  This would not do, Neverland shouldn't be  _scared_  of anything he wasn't. And he was far from scared of whatever—whoever—his shadow was bringing.

Until he felt someone enter the island. He could feel their screams vibrating in his ribs. The shadow had  _dropped_  his latest visitor; they were plummeting sharply down to the far shores.

"Boys, let's go greet our guest."

* * *

 

This wasn't what the shadow was supposed to bring. This … This creature—this insult to Neverland, to him—was not what he wanted. It was a _girl._  He wanted to scream, wanted to rip his hair out and throw a tantrum at this disgrace.

But she was frail looking, small and scared.  _Like a_ bird, he thought to himself, almost sneering.

"Who are you?" He asked, careful to keep the venom out of his voice in case his shadow actually had a good reason to bring this frail blonde.

"I—I'm Wendy," she said, rushing to stand and brush the sand off her nightgown, "Wendy Moira Angela Darling." The boys laughed slightly at this—here this strange girl was, falling from his shadow's grip, wearing a frilly night gown, with her once perfect curls disarrayed at her landing,  _curtsying_  to them with her ridiculously long name, not even aware of what she'd gotten into. It was _funny._

"That's a  _beautiful_  name," he responded, a trace of sarcasm in his voice for the boys to laugh at, "I'm Peter. Peter Pan." He gave her a charming smile and her knees shook like jello. He decided he'd play with her.

* * *

 

The shadow did not tell him what he wanted to hear, not at all. This girl, this pathetic little girl he built a stupid treehouse for and played nice with, she was the  _truest_  believer. He would not stand for it.

It was a mockery of his prophecy!

Such a silly girl had to give him her heart, it infuriated him.

…

She would die, all his efforts to charm her would be nullifed and she would die. No. He would not accept this. The game with her was beginning to get  _fun._  She was the boys' mother—his Wendybird—and he their father.

It wasn't until later that night, when he stumbled upon her undressing to bathe in safety of a lake, that he  _wanted_  her dead. Her figure forced him to feel something grown up. The curves of her soft, pale skin, the sharp edges of her limbs, her golden-brown locks cascading down her back, all of her was _intoxicating_  to look at. It set a fire between his thighs that he did not want. He could not want.

He wanted her pure little heart in his own chest, her blood to drip from the island's jagged rocks, her eyes to glaze over, her chest to still its breathing, he wanted Wendy Darling dead. But he wanted her under his weight in ways that a child should not.

* * *

 

It was the first time she had seen his wrath— _truly_  seen his wrath. His fingers dug into her flesh, surely bruising her delicate skin. He was hissing into her ear, "you are  _nothing_  to me, Wendy. This was a game, nothing more." The words burned worse than his touch.

She had tried to kiss him, assumed that, after months on the island, he might love her like she wanted him to. He had laughed at her confession of "something sweet" (as she'd so stupidly put it), laughed in her face and now he was telling her she was nothing.

"I  _hate_  you, Wendy Darling," he growled, "I will always hate you."  _For making me crave you_.

The blonde couldn't stop the tears from pouring out of her eyes, it burned too much and her insides ached and twisted and all of her being wanted to run the hell away from him. But he was still holding her, angrily. And then his lips were slammed down on hers, fiercely, furiously. His teeth dug into her bottom lip, drawing blood. She gasped in pain, her tears staining his face too. His tongue slid into her mouth, forcefully exploring it.

"See!?" He spat out, pulling away, " _nothing_."

"I want to go home," she whispered, trembling. It was the first time she'd ever asked. He  _hated_  it.

He howled in laughter, "just because I hate you doesn't mean you can just  _leave,_  Wendy-bird. You are  _mine._ "

* * *

 

The shadow delivered even worse news to him the next twilight.

 _She no longer_  believes _in you._

He practically broke into her treehouse, eyes set in a stone glare. " _Leave._  I want you  _gone,_ Bird, you're of no use to me anymore."

She'd wanted to go home, to forget Neverland, to never think or dream of him again. So why was she so empty at his words?

"Well!?" He shouted, "didn't you  _want_ to leave!?"

She didn't nod. She didn't breathe.

"Bird, Bird, Bird," he tsked, "I'll have to punish you for  _ignoring_ me." Wendy knew how he hated to be ignored. But what could he possibly do to her if he was sending her back? "How many brothers do you have, again, _love?_ " It was venom on his lips and blackening her heart.

"No! Don't touch them! Please, Peter! Not my brothers!" She screamed in horror.

"Goodbye, Bird," he sneered. He hated her, he hated her, he hated her.

* * *

"He let me go … Because he didn't want me." But she wanted him.


	2. Kings and Queens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The king will come for his queen." / And, oh, God, why did she eat the pomegranate?

He'd once told her there were no kings in Neverland. It was the first day she'd arrived, she'd held that wide eyed curiosity strongly in her soul and the questions had poured out of her mouth, one after another.

Felix, the tallest Lost Boy, had snickered at her and glared like he wanted to kill her. She had been too wrapped up in the enigma of Peter Pan to see.

In hindsight, he was a fucking liar.

* * *

 

Her first week there, he'd taken her on a walk around the island. She had been so tempted to slide her hand into his as they weaved in and out of the glades. Then he'd slipped his in hers to guide her. Her heart stopped beating altogether as the blushing smile weaved itself into her skin.

It was perfection, the feeling of the lines on his palms pressed against her flesh. She didn't even know where he was taking her. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but Peter.

"Wendybird, there's something I want you to do for me," he broke the silence.

"Anything," her eyes lit up in excitement. Peter  _wanted_ her.

"Tell me a story," he told her. If she hadn't been so blinded by how beautiful he was, she would probably have realized it was a demand.

"Um … Oh! I know!" She smiled, a plan formulating in her head. "Well, where I come from, there's mythology about gods. There's a story about the Greek god of the underworld, Hades. It's one of my favorites." Peter smiled softly at this. "Once upon a time—" she doesn't know how else to start this "—Hades saw a beautiful women, Persephone. It was love at first sight, so he went to his brother, king of the gods, Zeus, and they came up with a plan to make her fall in love with Hades. He kidnapped her, took her to the underworld and showed her love and affection in every way he could. At first, she was very unhappy, unwilling to be with him. Her mother, the goddess Demeter, tried to find and rescue her—" she swears something like anger flashes across Peter's eyes "—and eventually, she found her. But Hades refused to let Persephone go, he loved her too much. Demeter begged and pleaded with him, so he went to Zeus to ask what he should do. Zeus decided they could share her, for half the year, she would live with Demeter, for the other half, she would live with Hades in the underworld. Demeter planned to never return Persephone to him though."

"Demeter took his true love from him," he didn't ask it, he growled it, plucking fruit from a tree.

"Well, Persephone was her daughter, she loved her very much," Wendy reasoned, quickening her pace to catch up with him.

"But Hades was in love with her," the boy scoffed, "she was his. Of course he should keep her."

"His?" She paused, eyebrows knitting together.

"His," the green eyed boy affirmed, tossing the fruit in his hand. Wendy could see clearly now what it was. His arm outreached to her, the fruit still on his palm.

"She ate fruit from his garden though," she whispered, her trembling hands taking his offering. Biting into it softly, she watched as he raised an eyebrow. "Because of that, she  _had_ to return to him, because it meant that she belonged to her captor."

"What fruit was it?" The boy asked, laughing slightly.

"A pomegranate. Like this."

* * *

She fell in love with him quickly, playing house with him and the boys. She fell in love with the way he laughed, the way he teased her, the walks he took her on, the dances they shared, she fell in love with the adventure, with the island. And he was one with the island.

But telling him ruined everything. He no longer wanted her, he told her it had all be a  _game_ to him. Peter Pan had never loved her, not for a second.

So he let her go.

She should've realized the boy-king would come for his queen.

* * *

 

He lured her, really. In a blink of the eye, Bae was flying away, screaming. She knew what it was. She knew it was Peter telling her she was still his.

She'd eaten the pomegranate.

She had to return to her captor now. It had been far too long—her fifteenth birthday was in a week. The sixth month mark was almost here.

John asked her what they should do, panic alive in his eyes.

"We wait," she breathed out, "the king will come for his queen."  _And he expects her to love him again. Even though he doesn't love her._

* * *

 

She writhed in her sleep. The blankets were suffocating, the memories of Neverland, of Pan, they were resurfacing worse than when she'd first gotten home.

"Tsk, tsk, Wendybird, hoping I wouldn't come, I see," an all too familiar voice greeted. She no longer rooms with John and Michael, she's alone and vulnerable. It's always been Peter's favorite way to have her.

"I thought you didn't want me anymore," she whispered.

"You're all mine," he growled, "I've let you live here too long." And then he was on top of her, her wrists pinned above her head and the blankets discarded. "My, my, you've grown up," he spat out like venom.

"Not very childish urges," she whispered, feeling hard heat against her body.

"Shut up, Bird, you're the one that did this to me. And now you're going to pay," he hissed, his mouth rushing down to her neck. His queen let a strangled whine out of her throat.

She had been waiting for this, for him. The heat between her thighs had been there for so fucking long. No matter how much she hated it, hated him, she craved him. Her king had called her his so many times but he'd never shown her.

"Peter," she plead, moaning as his fingers twisted the hem of her nightgown, tugging it up. "Please, d—don't, my little brothers are … My parents …"

"You're mine, Wendy Darling," he growled into her flesh, "my queen, and I'm taking you back home."

"It was a tale of grown ups," she pleaded. He stopped. "Children don't do this, Peter, please."

"Kings and queens do," he argued.

"I thought Neverland didn't have kings," she gasped as his teeth dug into her collar bone. She hated the part of her that loved every second of this, that wanted to grow up, that wanted Peter Pan, but most of all, she hated that that part of her still believed in him.

"It doesn't. It has me. And you belong to me."

She wished she'd never eaten the fucking pomegranate.


End file.
